


Sad, Beautiful, Tragic

by Swagmuffin3a



Category: Hatfields & McCoys (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 22:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swagmuffin3a/pseuds/Swagmuffin3a
Summary: In Samantha’s upbringing she’d learnt two very valuable lessons, through her more than slightly complicated life, which she led in West Virginia, and via the people who raised her; one, your family does not have to be those that share your blood, and two, never trust a McCoy.





	Sad, Beautiful, Tragic

**Author's Note:**

> We had a beautiful magic love there  
> What a sad beautiful tragic love affair

In Samantha’s upbringing she’d learnt two very valuable lessons, through her more than slightly complicated life, which she led in West Virginia, and via the people who raised her; one, your family does not have to be those that share your blood, and two, never trust a McCoy. 

Johnse had taught her that when she was but 7 years old – he being of a couple years older than she, had brought her along on one of his and William’s escapades through the woods. Their father and mother were none the wiser as to where the children had wandered off to, nor did Ellison, Samantha’s guardian, know of their whereabouts. They were free of any spying adults, or rules set in place by their elder family members. They had but a moment to themselves. 

Along this adventure, the Hatfield boys and their orphaned companion explored trees upon trees, searching through every nook and cranny in the woods until they came to cross a river; if they’d learnt one lesson not to disobey, it had been the one that insisted they stay on their side of the river, at all times. Across the other side lay monsters, thieves and bad men who would eat the children if they found them on their land; at least that had been what their Uncle Jim Vance had taught them all in their growing’s up. Whether it be true or not was yet to be determined, however not one nor any other of the trio were brave enough to go against Lance Hatfield, nor would any of them dare try and prove Jim Vance wrong. So once they reached the riverbank, at which a wooden bridge had connected both sides of the rushing water, they all ceased to walk a step further. 

Each blonde haired child glared at the bridge as though it had personally insulted their family in some way or other, but they dared not venture any closer to it than they already had. Instead, these three like-minded, imaginative youngsters devised a game of sword play with makeshift weapons, or began skimming stones across the softly tumbling waves of the river, watching how far they could skip before taking cover on the riverbed, rather than venturing too far toward the other side. This was the pass time of youths in West Virginia, and though these children had yet to know the burdens of adult life, their sources of amusement were already beginning to wear thin. They were tired of the same old adventures, to the same old river, which they dared not cross, but instead would simply gaze at - wishing they were one of the rolling ripples in its surface, travelling far from the tedium of West Virginia life. 

It was on this one, mid-summer evening, when Samantha was but 7 years of age, that her close friend and substitute brother, Johnse, along with his younger brother William, taught Samantha one of the two most valuable lessons of her life. 

They were sat upon the crooked and misshapen rocks lining the river bank, jesting about something of little importance, when something both exciting and terrifying occurred. It was as the youngest, and only girl, in the trio looked toward the forbidden land across the river, that she caught sight of something she had never before seen. It had not been the monsters, or thieves, or bad men that Uncle Jim Vance had promised would lurk in the shadows of Kentucky, but quite the opposite. Be that a good thing, or bad, Samantha didn’t know, all she did know was that those three boys and their sister did not seem as dangerous as the older Hatfields had portrayed them to be. When Johnse and William noticed their far-away company too, they both stood at either side of Samantha, and looked cautiously onward with her. The group of four, fair haired children standing on the opposite side looked back with the same regard, and hardly moved at all while either side gazed in both awe and anxiousness toward the other. Being of only 7, and of an innocent mind, Samantha had to be the one to break the silence: “hello.” 

She called it out with such enthusiasm, and eagerness, that it had hardly sounded like the voice of a Hatfield at all. This was a girl looking for friendship, not feuds, and being of such a young age meant Samantha was beautifully ignorant to the mistake she had just made in talking to those belonging to the opposite side of the bridge. 

Not one of the children spoke a word, but simply frowned at the girl as though she’d sprouted a second head. It had clearly never been recorded that, what they believed was the flesh and blood of their enemy Hatfields, could ever, so happily, converse with those of the family McCoy, and so each of the four, fair haired children on the other side of the river, blinked back at Samantha without intent to reply, nor intent to leave. William grabbed Samantha’s hand abruptly, looking toward Johnse for guidance as to what to do next: “they’re McCoys, Sam.” Johnse whispered, “We don’t talk to the McCoys.” 

Frowning innocently, Samantha looked forward once again to the group of similarly aged children on the opposite side of the dreaded river. One seemed to be the same age as Johnse, the eldest boy with striking gold hair, and then the other boys followed suit. The girl appeared to be somewhere around the same age as Samantha, though at a distance it would be hard to be sure.

“Come on, Sammy. Time we were gettin back now.” William said bitterly. The trio soon began their march back up the pebbled riverbank, and back into the shelter of the ever familiar trees. 

The lesson Samantha had learned then, which had stuck with her into her adulthood and only faced being forgotten many years later, was what Johnse had said upon turning away from their enemies on the other side of the battlefield, and what he’d said with the straightest expression Samantha was sure she’d ever seen: we don’t talk to the McCoys.


End file.
